Requiem and Resurrection
by AmadErik
Summary: "Take me to the Opera" - Erik told the driver after he left the Persian's apartment after his confession to the Daroga. But what happens next? What happens in those three weeks until L'Époque" publishes the message "Erik is dead." How could the story continue? Leroux based AU, prequel to Devil's Little Face.
1. Chapter 1

As the brougham was riding through the streets of Paris that night with the weak and emotionally less than stable Erik onboard, he couldn't see a thing from his tears. He was utterly sad, desperate and happy at the very same time, which made his weakness even greater. His mind was restlessly racing, yet he couldn't think logically and coherently, only images of the past flashed up in front of him. He closed his eyes and lay back on the brougham's seat taking a deep sigh. He felt lousy and yet marvelous.

Christine Daaé's beautiful face haunted him in his memories, he saw her sitting in front of him, as while during the rides to the Boulogne, when he took her out on those "rendez-vous" and was silently hoping that the girl will slowly get attached to him emotionally. The poor lady never really talked too much to him on those rides, and he did not say too much things either, as he did not know what to say. He was sure it bothered Christine, but simply nothing came to his mind that he could have told her. They were just distantly sitting in front of or next to each other, while the poor girl sure thought of that boy. She would have rather spent time with him other than Erik, he was aware of that.

But that last memory of Christine Daaé was so sweet and heartwarming that the awkward Boulogne rides were silently fading away, replaced by a smiling Christine sitting in front of him.

Her face was like a painting of an angel, no artist on Earth, or not even Michelangelo could have depicted her beauty as it was. Erik himself tried it several times, as he thought he could draw, and wanted a portrait of his beloved Christine, but he failed miserably each and every time. His hands weren't able to capture that angelic vision from Heaven. She was full of energy, cheerful, rosy skinned. She had a sweet little nose, full red lips, and clear blue eyes. Either the sky or the clearest water was reflecting in them. They changed color sometimes, depending on her mood. When she was happy, or listening to music, they lit with a shine of clear blue, when she was a bit of sad or gloomy, they changed to a darker shade with a glimpse of gray, and when she would sometimes turn upset, they even caught a hint of green in them. Her hair was silky, soft and golden, and it was such a miraculous sight to see the light playing with her locks. Her hair fell to her back when it was undone, but she mostly wore it halfway pinned up. Her hair was so nicely framing that cute face of hers... He was thankful he could see her in his life. Even though the last memory of her was a bit of painful for him, not only because the circumstances of that final night between them, but it was awfully heartbreaking to see Christine in that state. Her face was pale, her eyes were red from crying, wounds were covering her forehead and those eyes reflected such sadness he never wanted them to. He never wanted and intended to cause Christine any pain, and yet he was the one who hurt her more than anyone else on this cruel world. And yet, the sweet modest angel did not hold any grudges. In her shoes, he would have SLAPPED Erik, hit him, kick him, and hit his ugly skull head against the wall as well,,, but she did not do such things. She cried with him. She cried for him. She called him "Poor unhappy Erik" ! And she kissed him. He did not deserve a kiss, and yet he received one from that angel!

Oh, that kiss on his forehead felt much better than anything. It was sweeter than the finest selection of chocolate, It was warmer than the light touch of summer sun on his skin. It was one of the very rare occasions, after that kiss that Erik actually felt he had a heart in his chest.

\- Monsieur, we are here! – He suddenly heard a male voice that distracted his musings. – Are you all right?

He opened his eyes. The road to the Opera never seemed to be so short. Did he fall asleep? Might be the case, easily. He wasn't feeling too well and this trip was wearing him out. And these memories...

\- Monsieur...? – He could hear the driver jumping off of the box, walking closer to him. He had to collect his strength and stand up. He slowly pushed himself to a sitting position, as he found out, he was laying right at that moment, nearly slipped off of the seat. He should looked like a drunkard, wearing a full face black mask. Not a trustworthy sight. – May I help you? – The driver opened the door and tucked his head in.

\- No, thank you. – Erik managed to finally open his mouth and squeeze out some words. He was now slowly staggering to his feet, and climbed out of the coach. He paid for the ride and slowly walked towards the Opera in that late hour of that spring night.

When he finally reached his home, he wasn't able to tell how he did it. How he managed to enter his home? Did he walk through Rue Scribe entrance, and did not use the lake, or did he actually row the boat across that damned water? He was sure not using the shortcut through the third cellar and the Torture Chamber, as he arrived his home through the drawing room, and not the Louis- Philippe room. He was so tired he thought he was going to die right at that moment. In the end, Erik finally did not collapse on his living room floor, but was strong enough to climb into his armchair. All his body was in pain. What his problem might be? Maybe he was really dying of love? Was that actually possible?

When he finally opened his eyes, after a sleep he did not know how long it lasted, his vision was slightly blurred. Otherwise he felt somewhat better, some sleep made him less weak. He stood up from his chair and aimlessly started to wander around his home, as he just saw it for the first time in his life. He couldn't find his place. He was alone again, and in his loneliness, waiting for death, he did not know what to do. Christine was in front of him again, he now saw her kneeling in front of the wall in the Louis- Philippe room, with blood dripping all over her face. It slowly soaked her dress and her hands were covered in it as well.

\- Christine! – He cried out in horror. – What has happened...? Did you do it again? Why do you keep doing this? Isn't it good to be Erik's wife? – He knelt down in the empty room, sobbing, trying to lift Christine up to take care of her wounds, but his hands went through her, than the vision completely disappeared.

Erik's teeth chattered with cold, and he helplessly let out a painful cry. He closed his eyes, but suddenly Christine's bloody forehead appeared again, so he had to open his eyes to be saved from the sight. Oh that poor girl! What have Erik done to her? And the sweet little thing still wasn't m'd. She was feeling pity and love for him, and she was able to kiss him. And he did not even receive his punishment for his sins!

He let her hit her head against the wall, he tied her up, he dragged her through the room, he threatened her, he nearly killed her lover..., and she was still able to show compassion, and not punish him. What does the Bible say? What you give to others, you shall get it in return.

He shall have his punishment from himself if his dear Christine was so dear to him that she did not lift her tiny hand against him! Without a second thought, he slammed his forehead against the wall of the Louis Philippe room by full force. He could feel pain, but that was exactly what he wanted. He knocked his head against the wall for some more times, but he couldn't feel the sensation of blood trickling down his forehead. What a hard skull he has! Christine, the poor dear Christine sure started bleeding by half of these hits and not even a tiny wound could he cause for himself. What a monster has such a thick skull? It is true, he is not even a human being. All humans would die by this act. He did not give up though. He was never the one to give up things so easily. He slowly staggered to his feet, he felt dizzy. This was going to be the right way to go. Feeling disoriented might indicate concussion. He should suffer! Suffer a lot! He flinched back a few steps and leaned down so his head was angled towards the wall directly. He took a running leap, so maybe that will finally do the job. As his head hit the wall with full force, he could sense his teeth clash by the extreme hit, and the hole of his nonexistent nose started bleeding. Blood was running from his nose hole, slowly painting his shirtfront red, and he saw some bloodstains on his skeletal yellow hands and white cuffs.

\- Finally... Erik got what he deserved! He did!

He smiled, as blood was slowly pouring down on his malformed, nearly missing lips, and neck, his white bow tie was tinted with a reddish shade as a few drops fell on it, and he collapsed onto the floor. He couldn't feel delight for too much time, as suddenly everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

When he slowly drifted back into the painful reality, and he could feel his body again, and a throbbing headache made him remember the punishment he received from himself, he realized he was still laying on the floor of the Louis-Philippe room, next to the wall. A small lamp lit the room discretely, and in the shadows he could now recognize the furniture of his poor unhappy mother. He felt weak and lifting his head required a great effort. His nose wasn't bleeding any longer, dried up blood was covering his face and shirt. He felt disoriented and lousy. Perfect, just what he wanted. He should feel miserable, just as that poor angel did with him. He didn't care if she forgave him, which she most likely did – he can never forgive himself for what he was: a MONSTER.

He slowly staggered to his feet and dragged himself out of the room. He did not really know what to do, but he was sure he did the right thing by punishing himself for his sins he committed against that angel. Now he only had to wait for his death which will hopefully come soon.

He hoped that he will be able to die soon enough, for three reasons.

One: Christine did not have to wait for too long until she can keep up to her promise and finally can forget about poor unhappy Erik and lead a pleasant life with the young man.

Two: Christine will return to him and that day will be the most beautiful, and he was waiting for it eagerly, even though he knew he won't be alive by then. Meeting her is always a pleasure – even in his death.

Three: He didn't have to suffer for too long any more.

To be able to die soon, he decided he will just passively wait for it, doing absolutely nothing to keep himself alive. On the contrary. It will be an utterly interesting experiment for him, the last one in his life. He heard people are able to die by only the lack of sleep. No suicide. It would be a horrifying and disgusting sight for poor Christine to find him either hanging from the tree in the Torture Chamber or freezing up in a pool of his own blood caused by stabbing or shooting himself. And never, oh never ever would he poison himself because laying in a puddle of his own vomit and maybe urine won't be a pleasant way to die and it would disgust Christine. That poor dear girl is traumatized enough, there is no need to make her suffer even more.

But he still had business to finish before indulging in the process of leaving this world. He repaid all of the money that had left for him from the 20 000 francs he ordered each month from the management. He didn't need money where he was going. He also sent his most precious belongings he inherited from Christine Daaé to the Daroga- Christine's letters to Raoul she wrote during the incident with this monster, some handkerchiefs, a pair of gloves and a shoe buckle. The Daroga may post that ad- he felt like he wasn't going to be able to walk up on those stairs again, so the time had left for him must have been brief.

He was only able to walk slowly. Who would think that walking is such a hard process? Were there always so many stairs? Supporting his own weight, whatever light it might have been, never was such a task before.

As he arrived back in his house, he started to make preparations. At first, he needed an own Requiem. He did not think Christine would ever sing it for him, most likely she won't even find out it exists, but he could already hear it in his mind. It will be beautiful. Such a monster as he is, doesn't even deserve such a beautiful Death Mass. He planned to consume himself by composing his music while lacking eat and sleep, He wanted to get rid of drinking as well, but he caught himself involuntarily sipping up some wine from time to time, and it always annoyed him to no end. He sometimes had to hit his head to be able to stay awake. There were wounds all over his head caused by the edges of a candleholder he mostly used – it was the thing he could most easily reach out for if he felt he was drifting away. Sharp pain always woke him up. He wasn't even hungry. There is a state in starving you can't feel hunger any more. He knew this feeling from his youth when sometimes he had to fast for long- long days. At first your stomach is in pain, but after it goes all numb, and you finally forget about all the mess and can concentrate on composing... if only there wasn't so cold in here!

Suddenly he felt rather cold. He did not know how much time had passed since he started composing. It seemed so long ago. With a painful groan, he lifted himself up of sitting position, and had to face the fact he was no longer able to stand. He feel on his knees as his feet were shaking too rapidly. He knelt in front of his desk, unable to stand up again. He climbed on hands and knees to check on the fireplace. Strange thing there was still fire burning in the heart, yet he felt so cold... was he feverish? He hoped so.

With shaky hands he was struggling to climb back to his desk and on his chair to finish whatever he was working at the moment... what it was? Who knows? Maybe a sonata? Aria for Christine? Oh yes, it was – it was an aria for Christine. He closed his eyes for a second, but was struggling to stay awake. He wasn't allowed to sleep, what did he think?

As he opened his eyes again, he saw a large room in front of him. What was that? He wasn't in his house any more. Only huge space of emptiness, dark walls could be seen around him in all directions. Stone walls. Not his home, clearly not. His vision was somewhat blurred. He realized he was moving in there without walking. His head spun and some strange noises reached his ears. It was laughter. A child was laughing. Suddenly he noticed a small figure jumping around in the ink-like darkness, sometimes he was able to catch the glimpse of some blonde locks. The child's laughter became louder and louder and suddenly it started clapping and singing.

"I am Little Lotte, my scarf is red as blood,

My mother is a singer, my father is a Count.

When I will grow up, I will be a singer too,

But at first: you monster, I will murder you!"

He gasped as he realized the small thing walking closer to him, looking at him with accusing eyes. She had clear blue eyes and had the facial features of Christine and Raoul de Chagny mixed together. She held a knife in her hand and grinned like a maniac.

\- Who are you? – He asked, trying to sound sarcastic instead of scared.

\- Little Lotte de Chagny.

\- Leave me alone.

\- Do you know my mother?

\- No. – He lied quickly, trying to toss that small thing away from him.

\- Don't lie to me, monster, you killed my Uncle! Tonton Philippe is dead! – She screamed.

 ** _"_** ** _Murderer of Count Philippe, what have you done to his brother and Christine Daaé?"_**

Suddenly the Daroga's voice thundered in his ears, like a gunshot. The child laughed again, but seemed to disappear. Ink black water of Lake Averne showed up with the dead Count Philippe rocking on the surface. His lifeless eyes were accusingly fixed on him and his hand froze at a pointing position, showing who had murdered him.

\- It wasn't me… - he muttered nervously and shook his head. – That was an accident… believe me, an accident... Count Philippe... no...

\- Erik, you are a nuisance, a madman, a murderer, a MONSTER! – The Daroga yelled at him angrily.

\- Let me go! – He sobbed. – Let me go, leave me be! Please Daroga, stop accusing Erik and let him die in peace!

\- You shall face the fate you gave to others. – The Persian's voice echoed around him in the empty darkness. – You shall be hung, Erik and I swear I tell everyone you murdered Buquet and Count Philippe!

\- Buquet was already dead... he was...

\- Stop lying! – The Daroga slapped him from nowhere, he wasn't able to see him anywhere. He only felt he lost his balance and fell back, hitting his head against the ground.

Darkness and silence filled up his mind, finally. No more accusations, no more slaps. Thankfully they can't hit him. He can't even defend himself right now.

He wasn't sure how much time was spent in the darkness, but he heard singing again. This time it sounded like a woman. Woman...? It was... Christine? He recognized her voice. Can it be the angel?

With a painful whimper he tried to force his eyes open. It did not succeed, only thee melody was ringing in his ears for some time again, before complete darkness took over its place.

When he opened his eyes again, he realized he was in his room again. Was it a dream? His head was bleeding, and he noticed he fell backwards with his chair in front of his desk. Annoyed, he sighed. How on Earth will he be able to stand up and replace the chair in its normal position as well? He couldn't stand on his feet the last time he checked. And now he had to adjust furniture. His room must be messy. He turned his head to the side and tried to look around. There was that stupid candleholder fallen on the ground and some sheet music pages slipped to the ground. He felt hunger. Again he was hungry when finally that feeling already stopped? His stomach was cramping. He felt so hot and so cold at the very same time. Who would think that dying won't be as graceful as he imagined? He just thought he will be able to lay down in his coffin after finishing his Requiem, picking up Don Juan Triumphant and hug it to himself then close his eyes for the last time and never wake up again.

But it has to be like that!

He doesn't let his miserable body make fun of him in his death. Christine shall not find him like this, laying in a fallen chair on the ground, like a goddamned turtle that fell on its back. He tried to turn to his side which succeeded finally, after many tries. He did not know how much effort and trying it took to finally be on the floor on his hands and knees, among the sheet music pieces. He wanted to crawl to the organ to pick up Don Juan, but the room seemed to be so so long... oh what a distance it looks like! On his feet with all his strength, it would only take him maybe half a dozen steps. How should he do it all alone, helplessly? Couldn't he ask for any help? God please… help poor unhappy miserable old Erik to be able to die in peace! If you have mercy for those who completely regretted their sins, please make a miracle! Help Erik stand up for one last time!

Suddenly a strong, stormy wind that seemed to come from nowhere, caught up the sheet music from the organ and made it fly towards him. "Well, it isn't a bad solution either." Erik thought while caught the sheet music, the work of his life. Another miracle happened… he was carried away by the wind as well, and placed gently in his coffin with his masterpiece.

Thank you, God, for your caretaking..- I knew you loved me still. Good night!


	3. Chapter 3

**_"_** ** _Erik is dead."_**

Her eyes filled up with tears as she read those three words in the paper. It shocked her even though she had been searching for that small obituary for the past weeks in each and every L' Époque Raoul brought her for the morning coffee. She expected it to appear within time, but she did not think it will be so soon. Erik did not seem to be in such a bad health when they parted... Maybe that's why he was so desperate about marrying her? He did not tell, but maybe he exactly KNEW he did not have much time left? Maybe she could have married him for three weeks only. She could have stayed with him until he dies if he just says... But of course, Erik would have never admitted it to her. Why so soon?

She dropped the newspaper as her hands turned so weak suddenly and they shook with the pain of her heart. Erik is dead. She did not know how to feel about these words. She was crying, for sure. She didn't even realize at first that her tears were flowing endlessly down her face. Oh, Erik!

She had mixed feelings about that man. She was really repulsed by his face and he scared her with what had he done that night, and after she removed his mask. Oh God, can anyone ever forget that night? It was full of horror, worry, crying and disgust. Erik can be jealous, angry, bitter, sarcastic... But when he freed Raoul for her... and that scene with the forehead kiss... She didn't know how she wasn't repulsed any more by that kiss with those horrible, nearly missing lips, but it was sure a moment when no one pays attention to those things.

She did not hate him. But she did not love him. But… some kind of affection and bond was forming between them and she couldn't deny it.

They shared peaceful memories as well, other than horror. She thought things through and remembered the music lessons and those two weeks in Erik's home, when they got to know each other a bit more. She had to admit those weeks weren't always awkward. On the contrary, Erik, when nothing seemed to bother him and he was in a good mood, could be a very kind and caring man. He was a pleasant and educated talking partner, he had knowledge in all fields she did, and even more, and he liked to share his knowledge and ideas with her. She saw the small vase on the dining table in her mind, with the single piece of rose every morning that Erik always prepared for her before breakfast, and she could hear his pleasant voice. What a pleasant and soothing voice he had when he didn't act like a drunken demon! Oh Erik...

\- Christine dearest, I have good news! – She heard Raoul's excited voice coming from the door as he stepped in the small apartment they were staying in since the incident at the Opera to hide from people until their wedding. It wasn't too far away. They wanted to travel to the North to get wed in a few weeks, and Raoul was just to inform her he got the train tickets for them, but Christine's mood worried him. Looking at her, he instantly knew something has happened.

\- What has happened? – She whispered, trying to dry her eyes.

\- Christine! – He ran to her with growing worry. – What is wrong my dear? Who hurt you? – He hugged her against his chest and she embraced him, seeking for support.

\- Erik... Erik... – Her muffled sobs alarmed Raoul, who looked around in the apartment with a sudden fear and anger.

\- Where is he? Where is he hiding? How did he hurt you?

\- He… he isn't... here. – Christine sobbed and tried to compose herself enough to continue. – He... is no more. Dead...

\- Oh… finally. – Raoul said, sighing in relief.

\- What? – Christine pulled away from Raoul in disbelief, looking into his eyes. – What did you say?

\- Oh… I just said finally he is dead, so he won't be able to bother us.

\- Raoul... you can't be happy about his ... his ... – She wasn't able to repeat 'Death". It was too irreversible. She couldn't believe Erik was laying underground, not hearing or seeing anything ever again..

He died alone. No one was there to support him in his last minutes and hold his hand while he takes his very last breath. Christine knew Erik's hand was cold, bony and sweaty, but she would have held it for him to make his dying more comfortable. Oh, whatever he have done in the past, he still didn't deserve such a death, down in the cellars alone, like a miserable rat...

\- Don't cry, Christine. – Raoul stroke her hair and massaged her shoulder soothingly, wanting to make her feel better. – I know it is a hard time for you. But I am not leaving your side.

\- Raoul, I have to go there. – Christine said softly after some minutes of silence.

\- Oh no, Christine! I don't let you go there any more, ever again.

\- Raoul, you clearly don't understand. I did not ask for your permission. I stated I was going there.

\- You can't be serious, Christine. After all these happenings, you can't go back to him.

\- He is dead. I promised him I will go back and bury him.

\- As he ever kept his promises for you! You told me he promised he won't spy on you, and...

\- Please stop insulting a dead person.

\- IF he is dead at all. I bet he wants to kidnap you yet again and just made up this lie so you will pity him and return by your free will.

\- I don't think he would do it.

\- I do.

There was silence for a long time. Christine sat on her chair, looking at Raoul with the saddest expression ever. Raoul slowly walked to the front door and closed it shut. The lock clacked so loudly in her brain that she was afraid it will make her deaf. Her heart bet rapidly and she was gasping. Raoul does this as well? Erik locked her up, and now does Raoul too? She did not want to believe her eyes and ears.

\- What are you doing? – Christine straightened up.

\- I thought it will be useful in your state if I just closed the door.

\- I don't need your protection. – She sighed angrily. – I will go and bury Erik anyway, even if I have to climb out of the window.

\- You love Erik more than you do love me. – Raoul accused bitterly.

\- Raoul, you know well that it is not true.

\- Not? Then why do you still wear that damned ring?

Christine stared at her finger for some seconds. The memory with Erik skeletal fingers gently sliding the ring on her finger flashed in front of her eyes, and she could hear him asking to put it back on his finger when she returns to bury him. The scene made her even more determined to keep up to her promise and go to the Opera, no matter what Raoul says or thinks.

\- I promised him I am going to wear it up until he dies and I bury the ring with him.

\- You could have easily just thrown it away. – He shrugged.

\- I am not a person like that. I always am true to my word and even now I will be.

\- Do you love me at all?

\- Of course, I do. I don't know why I have to always prove my love to someone. Why can't you just believe me?

\- If you loved me, you wouldn't want to go back to that monster after all the mess I have went through to save you from that monster.

\- I hope you don't mean it.

\- I do. If you loved me, you wouldn't risk all our future life just for the sake of a foolish promise you made for a monster who was half mad by his appearance and half mad just because of sheer malice!

\- You are right in a way, but you have to understand I love you, Raoul. But I have to say good bye to Erik. For one last time I am going there, and return to you and we get married as we planned.

\- No. You will forget those awful happenings, Christine… please, my dear, just try to forget, and go on with our life.

\- I will, after this one last act I swore upon. Raoul, open the door, please. Open it, and I go to bury Erik. I return in two hours.

\- I open the door. – Raoul stated coldly. – It is up to you if you step out of it or not. But remember, once you return to that house by the cursed lake, where my brother was murdered, you chose to step out of my life and I don't expect you to ever return.

\- What? – Christine asked with disbelief.

\- You heard it right. – Raoul opened the front door. – My brother was murdered by that monster and you just want to go kiss him good night. If you betray me like this, I don't wish to marry you anymore. If you loved me, you would forget about Erik, and married me just for the sake of finally making up to my sufferings I had to go through. I know it was an incredibly hard time for you as well, but you just forcing yourself back in that dream world I was fighting to save you from.

\- If you loved me, you wouldn't say such things. – Christine retorted brokenly. – So… if I understand it right, you wish to break our engagement?

\- If you go to Erik, yes.

\- Then good bye, Raoul. – Christine turned around and hurried to the door, but Raoul's voice stopped her.

\- I knew you loved him more. I always knew. Even though he murdered Philippe, you still love him more. You did nothing to stop him. You never liked Philippe.

\- If – if I remember correctly, - she was shaking from head to foot with rage – it was Philippe who hated me. But I couldn't help him anyway, as you know I was tied to a CHAIR!

\- If I didn't go to the Opera that night, and left you with your manipulative creepy lover, to be at each other's liking, my poor brother would still be alive. Philippe died for NOTHING.

After Raoul's bitter accusations and laments, silence fell on the room. Neither of them talked for minutes. She was waiting for him to apologize for the heavy and heartbreaking words he just said, and he was waiting for her to change her mind and tell him she loved him with all her heart and will forget about that monster forever. But not a single word came from either sides. The air in the room got too much choking and heavy. Christine turned to the front door again, and walked out of it. Turning back for a second, she saw Raoul slowly collapsing into one of the armchairs and softly crying.

\- Adieu, Raoul. – She whispered and shut the door behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

She was crying hard in the Opera cellars while she was walking along the secret road to Erik's home. She could barely see anything because of the tears constantly pouring from her eyes, blurring her vision. She was crying for both Erik and Raoul. How could Raoul, dear sweet Raoul, her soulmate, her childhood friend say such things to her? After all they had gone through and she would have needed emotional support from him in these hard times, it was exactly Raoul who stabbed her in the heart with his accusations and jealousy. How can someone be jealous of a dead person? A poor dead miserable creature... ?

 _Poor unhappy miserable Erik._

As she stepped in the drawing room she could see nothing as it was too dark. Thankfully she knew she only had to clap twice to turn the lights on. As the drawing room got lit in the sharp and dazzling electrical light, she couldn't notice anything special. Everything was in the same state as it was when she remembered back. Everything was all right. Maybe the piano had more dust on it, but other than that nothing changed.

She did not yet dare to search for… the body. Sure it was in the bedroom, laying in the coffin as she knew Erik wanted to go to sleep there, but she did not yet want to go in there. She bit her lips nervously and headed to the Louise- Philippe room. She wanted to check her old room, for one last time, before she went on about her business and left the house forever, and after go and live alone somewhere far away. She knew Raoul won't ever want her in his life, and she wasn't sure she wished to continue the relationship after those words. Maybe the Angel of Music… oh, it doesn't even exist! – Maybe Erik was right in a way. Maybe she really should not get married ever. She maybe should give her life to art.

Oh – it isn1t time to think about the future. It is foggy and utterly unsure. It scares her.

As she stepped in her room, she saw the bed beautifully made, everything was in perfect condition – except... except some blood on the floor near the wall. It was dried up already, maybe it was still her blood when she tried to kill herself. But – it can't be. She remembered back that Erik mopped up the blood from the floor after she was tied to the chair with cleaned up and bandaged wounds. He knelt there, mopping it up and angrily talking to her about "chosing the easy way out", calling her coward and selfish. His words were ringing in her ears like thunder.

 _"You - now are you satisfied, my darling? Eh? Am I really that hard to tolerate? You would rather kill yourself than spending time with your Erik, huh? You selfish little brat. Did you think it will be THAT easy? Just a few hits and all is over? Coward girl! You don't dare to face the consequences of your little game! You just want to leave the scene dead! Oh no! We will die together, understood?"_

Yes. He mopped it up. Then – whose blood is that? No! It can't be his! He couldn't have committed such a terrible sin against himself! No! If he ended his own life it means he can never reach Heaven where he belongs to – despite his horrible sins, he still had _SOME_ chance for that. Erik, did you chose the easy way out as well? Erik...

She knelt down to the dried blood and noticed a fallen out tooth. God. What on Earth had happened here? She picked it up despite her disgust, and examined it. It had some dried up spots of blood on it as well, and clearly it was broken. What has happened to Erik? Why did he lose a tooth with such a force?

In what shape that poor tortured body must be in? Oh God!

She restlessly stood up and started walking around the rooms, not daring to enter to Erik's bedroom, but couldn't stay at the Louis- Philippe room because of that ominous frightening sight. She walked into the kitchen to have a sip of water to settle down a bit. She noticed a broken glass on the stone floor and some empty wine bottles. Erik must have been sick if he did not clean these up. He did not tolerate mess and untidiness. She swept up and threw away the glass, carefully paying attention not to cut her hands. She looked around one more time, hoping that Erik, in whatever shape he might be in,, would still show up to question her about the noise she was making.

Erik please talk to me just one more time.

She was wandering around the house as a lost child, searching for any sign of life, but sadly nothing. The fireplaces in the Louis- Philippe room and the drawing room were cold. There was no heating, and they did not get cleaned out. Her shoes were knocking unbearably loud on the wooden floor. The grandfather's clock stopped. Erik always wound up each and every clocks and watches in the house as he was obsessing over knowing the exact time whenever he wanted to. No one set these clocks. No one could have.

Finally, she collected her strength and stepped in Erik's room.

The pipe organ was threateningly towering above her head as she turned her head to the side, trying to avoid directly looking at the coffin as she entered the room. She quickly clapped to make darkness disappear, just to notice that room was in a total chaos. Sheet music pages were thrown all over the floor with childish handwriting all over them, broken wine bottle, and red ink splashed on the floor. Or was it blood? No… thankfully only really ink. One of the pages she stepped on and now she lifted up carefully, only contained the notes C-D-A-A-E repeatedly scribbled all over it in treble clef intonation.

C. Daaé. C. Daaé… it was written down at least 100 times. That poor thing has really gone mad. Oh, may God have mercy on his tortured soul!

The chair at the desk was fallen and water was spilled all over the sheet music that fell on the ground at the desk. There was a candleholder laying on the floor. The candleholder also had spots of blood on it. Erik's black frock coat was just thrown on the floor, one of the sleeves reached in a puddle of red ink. He would hate that. Ink doesn't come out of clothing. He loved this frock coat, she thought it was his favorite. He wore it often.

She took a few shaky steps towards the coffin to finally do what she was there for, but as she carefully peeked inside, she noticed it was empty. God. Where is Erik? Where is he? He isn't waiting here for her. How should she find the body?

She started to circle the coffin nervously, trying to figure out what was going on, when suddenly...

She stepped on something. Upon looking down, she saw a skeletal hand under her left shoe. But the terrifying thing wasn't the realization of stepping on the body… but the painful noise it made when she did so! It cried out in pain – or to be clear, just gave out a faint painful muffled moan.

Did she hear it right? Are her senses making a fun of her and she is slowly going mad here, or did Erik really moan?

\- Erik… ? – She called out in trembling voice.

Another pitiful cry was heard, but nothing else for a time. She finally lifted her foot off of Erik's hand which resulted in a relieved sigh and some murmuring she could not understand. She went down on her knees beside the laying Erik. He was fallen on his stomach, his face was against the floor which muffled his words he might have said. Only those few locks of dark brown hair were visible on his head.

\- I am sorry. – She whispered. - I did not mean to step on you. I did not know you were here. Did it hurt much?

Erik sighed. He tried to move, but he was too weak to do so. Christine, nearly against her will, gently stroke his shoulder, and looked at him in worry.

\- Erik, can you talk? I know you are alive, thank Heaven. Can you speak? Please say something.

Erik wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or not. He felt extremely tired and even moving a finger required a lot of effort. He heard her voice though.

\- You are burning up. – Christine continued as she touched the side of his head as she could reach. – But your hands are cold.

\- I… I... am ... cold. – He finally talked. Not much and his voice wasn't like his. It faded away, it was weak and soft. It lacked the power and divine resonance it usually had. This one sentence followed by a deep sigh as he was too tired to talk.

Christine started involuntarily massaging his shoulders while her tears started falling on the back of his waistcoat. Erik moaned contently, followed by a deep sigh. Christine kew she can1t leave him here alone. He is very ill and he needs her. She did not know yet how future will be, but she was sure she will stay with him until he either dies or will feel well enough to take care of himself.

She knew she shouldn't leave him lying on the cold floor, but the coffin was too high for her, and anyway, she would not put Erik in that damned object – as she was repulsed by that choice of a bed. She looked around in the coffin and could find some soft blankets for Erik. She covered him up with them until she tidies the house enough to be able to somehow carry Erik in the Louis- Philippe room to put him in a proper bed. He won't spend his last days on the floor.

\- What... are... you... doing? – Erik asked with great effort as Christine turned around to collect sheet music from the floor.

\- I am cleaning up a bit. Or... don't you want me to?

\- No. – Erik tried to crawl closer, and after a few miserable attempts he could get a few inches closer, but not anymore.

\- All right. – Christine put the papers down. – Stay calm, Erik. I am here to help you.

\- Erik... doesn't... need... help. – He clenched his teeth as he was trying to stand up, but his hands weren't strong enough to push up his body from the floor. – Go... away. – He added, collapsing back to the floor, being utterly worn out.

\- Don't you recognize me? – Christine gasped in surprise. She did not believe her ears that Erik wants to send her away. Why?

\- You... are Christine. – He stated, dozing off a bit. So he clearly recognizes her.

\- Then why do you want me to leave? – She walked closer, and leaned close to the man on the ground. She examined him with worry.

\- You came... too early. Sorry. – He sighed. – I... I... don't... wish...

\- Me to see you in that condition? – She finished his sentence as she saw how much speech wears Erik out. The Phantom was only able to produce a faint nod. – Erik, I understand that you don't feel comfortable around me in this state of health. – She continued. – But I am not leaving.

Erik gasped loudly which resulted in a coughing fit. Christine sat down next to him and patted his shoulder, trying to comfort him. After it ended, Erik tossed her hand away and turned away in shame. He murmured "Oh shit" under his breathe. Christine found it strange, she never heard Erik cuss before.

\- Why don't you want me to touch you? – She inquired.

\- Leave. – He buried his face on the floor, between his arms, and just lay under the blanket silently.

\- I am not leaving. – Christine stated. – I am staying with you until... so, until you need me.

\- Go to... the Viscount. Leave me. You don't... have... to... return.

\- Erik, this subject is over. I am staying no matter what you say or think. I wish to stay with you. I am actually relieved that I arrived early.

Erik sighed again. He knew Christine too well and he knew Christine means what she says. There was no use to send her away. He has no physical strength to push her out of the door and not even the room. But he clearly did not want her around, especially not now. How could death be so humiliating? Why did he send out the sign too early? Why didn't he die already?

\- You need to be washed. – Christine said, looking at the dried blood all over Erik's head.

\- Indeed. But... you... aren't... washing me.

\- You can't stay here on the floor with blood all over your head.

\- Oh... blood? – He asked with relief. – You… only... think of... blood.

\- Why, what did you think…? Oh… – Christine bit her lips. – Did you...?

\- Go away. – He moaned, laying down again, crying.

Christine noticed the blankets were a bit of wet, obviously the coughing fit caused poor Erik to lose control of his bladder.

\- Erik, it is nothing you should be ashamed of! You are ill. And...

\- Go away! – He whined and tried to pull away, but finally those lot of efforts he made to talk and move caused him to lose consciousness.

Christine sobbed upon the state she had to see poor Erik in. She was sure she will help him with everything and try her best to cure him. With a sad expression, she went to the Louis- Philippe room to mop up the blood from the floor and to light up a fire in the fireplace. She just hoped Erik won't regain his consciousness until she is done bathing him.

Erik's bathroom was just as luxurious as hers, he also had a water closet, running hot and cold water, and a marble bathtub. She ran some warm, but not too hot water for him, as she did not only need to wash him, but help his fever go down. He was so hot when she touched him.

When she was done with running the water and the tub was filled up, she wanted to turn around to somehow drag Erik in there, but to her surprise and shock, she saw she did not have to tire herself over that. Erik was kneeling behind her, shaking and gasping for air. His thin frame was trembling from head to foot.

\- Oh… how did you get here? – She asked.

\- Get... out. – Erik groaned. – I need no help.

\- I want to wash you.

\- Erik... takes a bath... ALONE!

\- Erik, don't be so stubborn, for God's sake! You can drown in your own bath if you turn unconscious of the effort you make.

\- GET OUT!

It was again Erik's thundering voice, but this wasn't the fact that worried Christine, but Erik's gasping that followed the yell. He somehow collected his strength to get in the bathroom and was determined to bathe alone. He needed so much willpower for that she did not imagine how on Earth he can have being so very ill.

\- I will be outside in your room if you need me. – She assured and left before Erik would waste his energy any further by yelling or fighting. If he wants to clean himself alone, there is no use to argue with him.

She started to clean up after she shut the bathroom door behind her to let Erik take a bath in peace, she collected the sheet music from the ground, and mopped up the puddle from the floor. She tidied the Louis- Philippe room and the kitchen and she set all the clocks according to her own watch. It was half past three. Erik was taking too long in the bathroom. Is he all right? Is he... dead? She hurried back to the bathroom door, nervously tapping on it three times and called out.

\- Erik? Are you all right in there?

\- Leave me alone. – The response came.

Not too kind, but at least he can still answer her questions. She worriedly sat down on the couch in Erik's room to wait until he comes out, or help him if he needed that. After some minutes she heard very alarming sounds coming from the bathroom and she felt her heart sink. Erik was gagging, then vomiting. She rushed back to the door and she asked the silliest question one can come up with in such situation.

\- Erik, are you all right?

Silence. Even after he stopped vomiting, he remained silent.

\- Erik…? You all right? – She repeated.

\- No. – Erik's irritated voice responded.

\- Do you need help? – She offered hesitantly.

\- With what the bloody Hell? Throwing up? – Erik retorted. – I have... told you... I did NOT need help.

\- All right, I am waiting for you here. Come out when you feel better.

In a half an hour time, the door opened. Erik literally collapsed out of the room, as he was trying to stand on his feet without much success. He was wearing a bathrobe and was all cleaned up, but the process utterly wore him out to the point of vomiting. Now he lay on the floor in front of the bathroom door, he seemed to be so exhausted he did not even care when Christine touched him under his armpits on both sides and dragging him towards the sofa she was sitting on a few minutes earlier. With great effort, she pushed Erik up there, but he did not wake up to the sensations of being tossed and dragged. He was unconscious.

She covered Erik up with a clean blanket she found and put a pillow under his head to make sure his head isn't uncomfortable because of the hand-rail. She knew Erik did not want her to see him like this, but she knew she had to stay with him and make his sufferings at least bearable. She was still repulsed by that uncovered pale face, but she had to be strong, and pretend everything was all right. She did it for two weeks already, after burning his mask. She will succeed again and make sure Erik dies in peace.

Deep in her heart she hoped Erik won't pass away.


	5. Chapter 5

Erik was sleeping for unbearably long time. While this, Christine had time to think and clean up. She dusted each and every room of the house, and also the kitchen, she cleaned both bathrooms, and tidied everything, just like a wife, occasionally peeking in Erik's bedroom to see if he needed something. She was determined to take care of him the best she can. Erik has to eat and sleep properly to get cured. She won't let him die if it is up to her. She walked back to the kitchen and wondered what to prepare for Erik and herself to eat. Erik sure wasn't in a good enough health to be able to digest anything, so he needed to have something light. She loved milk and rice and thought Erik would like it as well.

Erik was totally out of everything. The shelves in his kitchen weren't containing anything but some leftover salt and pepper, and even in his food cellar there were nothing. Some rotten or moldy potatoes, but nothing else. Christine sighed. This meant he did not have anything to eat for a long time. How can someone be so careless about themselves? It wasn't the best thing to leave Erik alone in the house, but she had to do some shopping, and hoped Erik will survive long enough for her to return and prepare his meal.

When she arrived back, her first thing to do was to quickly check on Erik. She hurriedly put everything down on the kitchen counter, turned around and hurried to Erik's room. She gasped upon the sight that met her eyes.

\- How on Earth did you sit down at your desk? – She cried out in horror.

Erik turned his head back to see Christine. He was looking at her with a partly annoyed, partly tired expression, then turned back to the desk without a word.

\- What are you doing?

\- Composing. – Erik replied on a casual tone. His voice was weak, and his left hand which held the fountain pen was shaking terribly, and he had to lean his right against the top of the desk to support his weight and force himself into a sitting position. He couldn't write notes on the paper, just made a blob of ink. He sighed in frustration and stated: - Pig.

\- Erik, you should rest. I have no idea how did you get here.

\- Erik is fine. You are not his nurse. He slept enough.

\- You can barely stay seated.

\- Erik can do anything he wants.

\- Stop being so stubborn! – She stomped her foot against the floor behind Erik. – Why are you doing this?

\- The piece isn1t finished. – He stated. – I have to finish it.

\- And what happens once you finish it?

\- I die. – He answered naturally. – I have already asked you to leave.

\- No.

\- Yes.

\- No.

\- Yes!

\- NO! – She screamed, gripping Erik's bathrobe sleeve and pulled him off of the chair.

\- What are you doing, woman? – Erik gasped from utter indignation. He tried to catch some furniture and fight against being dragged through the whole room, but he was too weak to protest. Even the usually much less stronger girl could do as she pleased to him. Other times Erik would lift and carry Christine any time by even only one hand, but this time was different. He had trouble keeping his eyes open.

\- If you don't listen, I put you to bed and might even tie you there if you don't stop this nonsense. And be warned that you will eat.

\- Erik is not hungry. – He groaned, while being pushed back on the sofa. – And he does not wish to spend the rest of his… miserable… life… on this… damned… stop pushing me!

\- Listen carefully, my Angel of Music and Don Juan Triumphant!

\- Stop calling me-

\- Shut your face! – Christine ordered. – Well, listen: Christine is not interested if Erik is hungry or not. She doesn't care if he wants to stay in bed or not. She will bring food to him and will force feeding him if he won't eat by himself. She is JUST as stubborn as Erik is. End of conversation.

\- Why are you doing this to me, Christine? – He sobbed. – Why do you torture Erik…? Must you?

\- I thought you loved if I stayed with you. You wanted me to be with you. Now why do you have to be so ungrateful and stubborn when I try to do things for you?

\- No. – Erik wheezed, clearly getting too much worn out by the argument. – You ... do not... do it for Erik. You do it ... for yourself.

\- What?

\- You- make - - make me- suffer for the sake – of- saving my life. Who asked you? **WHO?** Why don't you- leave me- alone- in peace... to die? Why- do- you have to- witness- a monster's- mortal- agony? – He closed his eyes and was gasping for air for some minutes, being in pain and shaking from head to foot. He moaned, and involuntarily kicked some out of muscle cramps bothering him. Christine felt so sorry to see Erik like this, and this sight suddenly opened up her heart and gave her courage to talk to Erik honestly.

\- Because I think you should not be dead. That is not what you deserve. Not like this. And not now. – Christine got surprised about her sudden sincere confession, but she really felt this way, and wanted Erik to know about her feelings.

\- What? – He looked her in the eye, yet he was hardly able to lift his head up. – Monsters… have to- end- this way.

\- You are not a monster.

\- Then – what am I? – He inquired exhaustedly.

\- You are my friend.

\- Your – what?

\- Friend. – She repeated and nodded. – Didn't you know it?

\- After all- I- had- done to you? – He found this so unbelievable. How can this angel call him a friend after being nearly killed with everyone?

\- You were desperate. You committed horrible things, but what you done against me I forgave you when I kissed you. I mean it.

\- Oh Christine. – He whispered thankfully.

\- Erik, promise me you won't send me away and accept my help. – She begged with tears in her eyes.

\- Christine... tell me why – do you- ask this.

\- Because I like you. And I prove it. – She stood up from her chair from next to the sofa and leaned close to Erik, placing a soft kiss on his sweaty and fiery hot forehead.

Silence. Erik was staring blankly at Christine for some time, then moaned and his head hit the hand- rail of the sofa as he passed out. Christine sat back on her chair to take care of Erik and wait until he finally comes to consciousness again. She examined the horrid features, the lack of a nose, the sunken eyes that only looked as two holes on a skull, as Erik's eyes were closed, the malformed lips... And she knew, despite all of this, and Erik's horrible sins and acts, that she was doing the right thing.

The next time he opened his eyes a few hours later, he did not seem to be himself. Christine was worriedly examining him, and couldn't find sense in his staring. His yellow cat- eyes only reflected absence in mind and pain.

\- Erik? – She called out, hoping to catch a word from him that gives away that he was actually doing better than it seems he does, but she had to disappoint.

He shuddered and his teeth chattered because of a shiver ran down his spine, his mouth opened and his head turned to the side, with still open eyes. He sighed and his right hand fell to the ground.

Christine cried out in horror as she had the impression that Erik passed away, and she desperately started shaking him.

\- Erik please! Stay with me! Do you hear me? Erik! Don't leave me, my friend! Erik, please don't give up!

The cat eyes narrowed, then got wide open again. They stared at Christine for some seconds, and he softly whined because of the pain the shaking caused his body to be in.

\- Erik, please say something so that I know you can understand me. – Christine pleaded worriedly.

\- Mother... – his faint whisper could be heard. – Where is... my mask?

\- Mask? – Christine repeated with disbelief.

\- Mask. – Erik nodded slowly. – I need it. Cover.. me please.

\- It isn't needed. – Christine swallowed back some upcoming tears and tried her best not to burst out in a sob.

\- It is. – He stated weakly. – The doctor... won't come to... the bed. I have to... wear it. Mother- please- call the doctor... I am dying.

With that his eyes closed again. Christine refused to put the mask on Erik's face, yet earlier she wanted him to wear it all the time, to cover that mess of a face from her eyes. Of course, he looked horrible, but there were more important things to take account of, mostly Erik's well - being. Wearing a mask would not make him any good. He can hardly breathe even without it, and his hot head would get even hotter as he will sweat in it in no time, causing his fever to increase. After putting a wet cloth on Erik's burning forehead and twirling them on his wrists as well, she started stroking his bony hand to make him feel somewhat better. After some time, when the cold packs were finally starting to help some, Erik opened his eyes and looked at Christine with a knowing faint smile.

\- I can now- die as- a happy man. – He whispered, noticing Christine's hand on his.

\- I like... I like... I love you. – Christine stuttered softly.

\- I love you too, Christine. – Erik replied, dozing off again.


	6. Chapter 6

Christine did not regret being too much honest with Erik that day, as she first thought so. Once she finally stated she loved him (which was a bit of exaggerated at that time, but worry and pity makes people overreact sometimes, but in a way, she really did love him- maybe as a friend.) As Erik heard those words, it was like God had made a miracle.

Miracles do happen on this Earth, and the beautiful thing is there is no need for great and world- changing acts to help one to happen. Simple acts of kindness and love are enough to turn events to the better. A smile, a kiss or those three magical words can give strength and life to someone who was ready to leave this world. Erik felt wanted and needed. He now WANTED to get better.

For Christine.

He wanted to die for her, but at that moment when she said she loved him, he finally understood that the girl did not want him to die. So now, he has to give her what she wants, and stay alive for her. If we love someone, we do things for them we know it will be painful for us. Staying alive and go on with life will be painful – but the angel asks that of him, and he simply can't deny it.

It was a hard thing to do though. Erik was ill. He was worn out, weak and feverish. He was sometimes unconscious with fever, laying motionlessly in bed for one or two hours. He threw up if something harder than liquid got into his stomach, or if he made too much effort to move, and found it nearly impossible to rush to the bathroom when he needed to. He did not let Christine help him or clean up after him if accidents happened. But he was determined to heal up.

Erik started to eat. Even though he could only have and keep down a small amount of liquids, mostly soup, without retching, and did not have much appetite in general, he still did not protest when Christine brought him food. At first she had to put pillows behind him so he could stay seated to eat, but he insisted in holding the spoon for himself and eat alone.

\- Erik is not an infant. He can solve it. – He stated. Christine knew it wasn't useful to argue or force anything on Erik, especially not after he finally started to eat and wanted to get better, so she just sat with him while he slowly spooned some soup into his mouth.

He did get better and stronger day by day. Even though he was weak, he insisted to be left alone in the bathroom to do his business and get cleaned. Christine did not mind it too much that the more awkward parts weren't included in nursing an ill person, yet she was worried as Erik was moving quite unstable and she worried he might fall.

\- I promise I won't bother you in the bathroom, but I ask you not to close the door so… I could… help you if something happens. – She knew it was something that was impolite to ask of a man as a lady, but she started to feel less bashful about such subjects in front of Erik. They had gone through a lot of things already, and she felt somewhat close to an intimate friend and she was sure she would storm into the bathroom to help him up without fear and disgust.

A small amount of silence came. Erik stared at her in awe and his jaw dropped.

\- Do you know what did you just say, Christine?

\- As I said, I am not going to enter unless it is needed, but it would calm me if I knew I could save you if needed.

\- Erik does not think he will need that. – He replied after a few seconds. – But I do as you ask to calm you.

A smile came as a response.

Erik was surprised about one was willing to really help him in an awkward situation as well, and yet he hoped it won't happen, this thought gave him a sense of safety he could cling to.

Christine was a caring nurse to Erik. She helped him with everything he let her, but did not force anything on him, so they got along well. Erik accepted help in things which he did not find humiliating, for example being helped to sit up or stand up from bed, or being walked around the room to gain some strength. She was understanding, kind and patient, as she was helping her sick father. She put a blanket over Erik when he was lying in bed or sitting in an armchair and made sure he won't catch a cold.

\- I am bored, Christine. – Erik complained. – I get tired of this constant passivity.

\- Do you wish to read? – She asked helpfully. – I bring you a book from the living room. – She offered.

\- No, I thought of rather writing.

\- I am not sure if you are well enough to tire your mind with composing. – She admitted apprehensively.

\- Don't worry. – He smiled at her comfortingly. – Composing is less tiring than resting. – He laughed shortly.

\- You borrowed this sentence from one of the letters of Mozart, did you not?

\- I did. – Erik nodded. – But I wholeheartedly agree.

Surprisingly Erik's health turned to the better once Christine let him write his music. He was working at his desk, but he went back to bed or the armchair if he felt tired- this was the agreement they made with Christine about composing and Erik made up to his promise, so he did not overstrain himself.

\- Erik…? – Christine stepped behind the man's back while he was working again. She knew that he did not like to be disturbed while working, but she had misgivings about Erik's work.

\- Hm? – He asked, not even looking back.

\- Please tell me what are you working at?

\- Why?

\- Because I would like to know.

\- It is a sonata.

\- Isn't it... a Requiem? – She asked cautiously.

\- No. I have told you, it is a sonata. For violin and piano. This have come to my mind. I don't know why.

\- I thought you were composing a Requiem and... return to that awful idea of...

Erik turned back in his chair to see Christine standing behind him, trembling with fear. She was pale and nervously biting her lower lip.

\- Christine, don't be so nervous. Erik isn't going to die. He promised his Christine that he will not leave this Earth as she doesn't want him to. Erik only wants to occupy his thoughts by writing, not to constantly think of how sick he is feeling.

\- Thank God. – She whispered softly, and nearly walked closer to Erik to hug him in relief, but she stopped mid-step and turned around to leave the room.

She got scared of the emotional reaction she had upon realizing Erik was here to stay. She felt affection and longing that made her uncomfortable. She isn't in love with Erik. No, it can't be...

Two weeks passed. Christine was happy to notice that Erik was walking more stable and was able to stand on his own, without holding on to furniture. He only needed his walking stick to make it easier to walk, but he was able to get anywhere in the house by the end of the second week. His fever slowly broke and he felt much better.

One afternoon, when he was walking in circles in the drawing room, leaned on his walking stick, and something seemed to bother him, Christine asked out loud the question that was bothering her for hours:

\- What is wrong, Erik?

\- Nothing. – He shook his head and continued strolling around.

\- Erik, I know you enough. – She said. – You are restless, which fact means you are bothered by something.

\- I just wish to get stronger, that's all.

\- Erik... please tell me. I want to help you.

Erik stopped and looked at Christine with an expression that she could not identify. He slowly walked closer and they stood face to face for a time.

\- We need to talk. – Erik sighed finally and showed a seat to Christine at the small table they were standing by. Christine nodded and sat down. Erik took a seat at the other end of the table, folding his fingers by his chest.

\- About what do we need to talk?

\- About you. What will happen now? Erik is better. What do you wish to do now? Leave Erik?

\- I don't know. – She admitted.

\- How is that possible?

\- I haven't thought of it yet. I was too busy to live for the present and taking care of you.

\- Aren't you married?

\- No. – She swallowed back some tears.

\- Where is your young man?

Christine turned her head to the side, nervously brushing a lock of hair out of her forehead and pretended she did not hear Erik's sudden inquiry.

\- Christine, dear. I have asked something. – He broke the silence when the girl did not come up with a response for too long time.

\- I don't know. – She sputtered.

\- Christine, I won't hurt him. Just tell me where he is. I am surprised he did not show up in these weeks to kill me for keeping you here.

\- I honestly don't know.

\- How come that? Hm?

\- Erik, please, let's not...

\- Did you have a fight?

\- It doesn1t matter.

\- So you did.

\- Yes. – She nodded.

\- About what? – Erik continued questioning.

\- It is not important. The thing that matters is... that...

\- It was about me, wasn't it? He did not like the fact that you return to Erik? Tell me, huh? You argued because of a monster. Erik gives Christine trouble all the time!

\- Erik stop! Chill, please. I am not telling.

\- So it was because of me, I knew it.

\- It was where it all started, but it wasn't the reason it ended.

\- I have to know about it, dear. Tell me.

\- It wasn't because of you. Raoul said something.

\- What did he say?

\- I am not telling, because you will call him on a duel. I don't want any of you dead. I want peace finally.

\- Did he break the engagement? – Erik leaned closer, sighing.

Christine nodded with tears in her eyes. She couldn't say a word. Erik slowly stood up and put his hand on Christine's shoulder, and comfortingly patted it. She did not pull away from his touch, which made Erik's heart ache with love and sadness at the same time.

\- Fear not, child. – Erik said with a compassionate tone. – Erik is going to fix what he had ruined.

He did not say anything else, just walked out of the room.

Christine cried out loud as Erik left, she got up from the chair and walked to her room. She buried her face into a pillow on her bed and slowly cried herself to sleep.

When she finally composed herself enough to be able to socialize with Erik again, she walked out to the salon, but Erik wasn't there. He wasn't in his room or the kitchen either. Christine gasped and ran through the whole house again, but Erik was missing. His jacket wasn't hung on the back rest of the chair at his desk and his fedora disappeared as well. God! Where did that man go again? He isn't well enough yet to go outside...

What if he gets sick? What if he faints? What if he DIES?

She was staring at the clock. Time seemed to pass so slowly, the hour hands weren't seem to be moving at all. Did that clock stop again? No. They finally moved, but by the speed of a limping snail. She was trying to catch any possible sound to hear if Erik was near or coming. Her hands were shaking with fear.

Erik, where are you? Why did you leave me?

 _ERIK!_


	7. Chapter 7

Her senses were getting stronger as time passed. The clock's ticking was as horribly painful as it was just echoing in her brain rather than at the other end of the room. She did not dare to look at the clock-face anymore because she did not want to know how much time did pass since Erik left. God. What has happened? She shouldn't have talked about the argument to Erik. Something terrible will happen. Maybe did he go to end his life? He walked out of the house so that she won't find his dead body? How could he do such a thing? How can he be so selfish? She told him she did not want him to die. She begged him to stay alive. And he... he promised he will stay alive.

Wait. Maybe he did not go to end his life. But maybe he felt sick and fainted at somewhere. If she only knew where did he go so she could search for him, and hopefully find him and nurse him back to health?

She will be sure to tie him to somewhere by a strong rope if he reappears ever again, she won't even let him get up not even to use the bathroom, because that man will always run away. He can't stay sitting on his rear.

After an unbearably long time spent alone, worrying, she could finally hear some noises from outside. Keys. Rattling of keys. He is here! He came home! She jumped up from the chair and stormed out of the room to get in front of him. The door finally opened and there he was, stepping in the house. He was leaning on his walking stick and let out a loud and tired sigh. Christine was relieved, happy and utterly furious to see Erik back in the house by the lake. Her emotions came at the surface, she couldn't help but all her swallowed back frustration anger and sadness burst out of her, and she grabbed the man by the collar before he could have removed his soaked jacket. It was raining heavily outside and Erik got wet.

\- Christine, what the... ? – Erik stuttered with surprise, dropping his walking stick.

\- YOU! YOU! YOU selfish PIG! – Christine screamed in his face and hit Erik's bony shoulders with her fists.

\- Stop! – He yelled. – Stop!

\- Where have you been?! – She grabbed him again and shook his shoulders by full force. Erik tried to grab her wrists, not too hard, but firmly and toss them off of him.

\- Have you lost your mind, woman?

\- Where the Hell did you go? – She repeated, and punched Erik desperately in the chest.

\- Christine STOP! Please. – He wasn't in good enough strength to fight, but he did not even want to hurt Christine. He only wanted her to stop beating him at last.

\- Erik...- She sobbed, and hugged Erik close to herself. – Forgive me,... forgive me... – she sobbed, just realizing she attacked Erik - but I was so worried... you scared me. I thought you were dying on the streets! – She was gasping from crying too hard, burying her face in Erik's shirt.

\- Ssssssh! – He did not know how to react, but wanted to calm and comfort the crying girl. He did not dare to hug her, as he was afraid she might get repulsed by his cold and bony touch, but he knew his voice was always enough to calm her a bit. – Hush, hush dear, Erik came back.

\- Where have you been? – Christine's muffled sobs sounded so hopeless. Poor thing.

\- I went to take a stroll. – Erik responded quickly. – I needed some fresh air, Christine, please understand I am here for weeks. Sometimes even I go outside.

\- In the rain? – She looked up with disbelief.

\- It wasn't yet raining when I left.

\- I don't believe you! – She accused. – You have some kind of secret I want to know it!

\- Christine, I am wet, tired and in pain. I would like to retreat a bit. After we may talk.

\- So you have. – She did not want to let Erik go, but he gently freed himself and went to his room to remove his cloak and coat.

\- Later, Christine. I can barely stand.

She found it a better idea not to pester Erik any more. He really seemed to be worn out and in need of a rest. He wasn't fully all better yet, he was weak and had some leftover pain in his head and body. The wounds on his head started to heal, but he complained about headaches many times, and if Erik already complains, it means something isn't right at all. Erik exhaustedly stretched across the sofa in his room, with a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He started snoring almost instantly.

Christine was trying to guess where did Erik go, as she did not have to worry any more about Erik's whereabouts, but she was now concerned about the secret Erik did not want to tell. Sure he did something, but what? He did not do harm to himself, no new injuries could be seen.

But what if he harmed someone else?! God, she did not even think before that Erik could have hurt... Raoul. Of course, as they were talking about him before he disappeared, and the fact that Erik did not want to talk about the happenings was hauntingly similar to the incident with Philippe de Chagny. Erik was talking incoherently about raining cats and dogs and someone looks very familiar... and did not want to tell anything. Maybe now it was the case as well?

She ran to the sofa with growing panic and not caring about what she promised earlier to let Erik rest a bit, she started shaking him. Erik was a heavy sleeper if he finally fell asleep, so it was hard to wake him up, especially if he was very tired. With a groan, he opened his eyes and tried to push Christine away and mumbled some words in his half-sleeping state.

\- Erik, we have to talk.

\- Mmmmeh….

\- Erik!

\- Leave me alone.

\- No. Erik where did you go?!

\- Ehhhh...,

\- Erik you have to tell me. I don't let you until I know.

\- I was at your – snore – your...

\- My?

\- Young man. – Erik fell silent again.

True. Erik was at Raoul's place! God! What did he do to him? Christine tried to shake him some more times, but he did not react any more. He even stopped snoring.

\- Erik? – She called out worriedly. No answer came. She shook him more times and slapped him gently, but he did not move. – ERIK! – She screamed. She went down on her knees next to the sofa and had no idea what to do. She put her palm on Erik's hole of nose in her utter desperation, which act resulted in Erik choking and taking Christine's wrist to toss it off of his face. He opened his eyes and looked at Christine with surprise and an annoyed look. The girl wiped her forehead in relief, upon realizing Erik was still alive.

\- What in the name of sweet Jesus Christ are you doing?

\- I thought you weren't breathing...

\- Sometimes my breathing stops for some seconds if I am sleeping too deep. It will come back. Let me be.

\- I am worried about you. – She admitted.

\- Don't be.

\- Erik, what did you do to Raoul... before you fall back asleep, I have to know.

\- I wanted to visit him. – He sighed. – I wanted to bring him here for you.

\- But WHY? – She rolled her eyes in confusion.

\- Because I wanted to fix things for you. I wanted you two to make peace and go and get married as you had planned.

\- Why? Why do you act instead of me? No one asked you to do this.

\- It is nonsense what you do Christine. You break up with your lover because of Erik to stay here with him out of pity.

\- It wasn't the case. But... I appreciate you wanted to help. But as you see, Raoul did not want to see me either, as he did not come.

\- He wasn't home. – Erik stated. – He travelled somewhere.

\- Did he?

\- Yes. – Erik yawned. – He packed his necessities and left last week. They don't know where, and they don't know when he will come back.

\- And now what, Erik?

\- And now, Erik is going to sleep finally, Christine. Leave the room and me alone please. I can hardly keep my eyes open. We shall talk later if you still want to.

He turned around to face the backrest of the sofa and with a loud yawn he fell back asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Christine was wondering about what Erik told her about his idea to fetch Raoul for her. Why would he do that, really? He hated Raoul, and hated the idea of them being together. She thought he will be content about Raoul's departure, but he seemed to be disappointed. Why did Erik not want her around anymore? He really looked like he wanted to get rid of her. Did he really want them to get married? And he? What will happen to Erik? If he will not die, which is very unlikely now that he more or less regained his strength, what will happen to him? Will he live alone forever, just like before?

Oh no. Maybe that is what he meant about "saving a life for making it even more unbearable" in an outrage of his before? Constant loneliness sure isn't what shall happen to Erik. Maybe he would really change if she loved him? Should she at least try?

He has no one, and apparently, she has no one either any more. Two lonely souls could always be joined in music. Erik the musician was really a nice thought. If she did not think of his face, only the music they made together, the possibility of the two of them getting together was much less frightening. Erik promised her he would search for a house for them, which fact would be nice. She did not wish to live under the Opera House, but neither did Erik, as she knew it.

He was in a restless sleep, he was kicking and moaning in his sleep and she was worried if he was in pain. She stroke his shoulder comfortingly, and she wondered a bit. She touched him more and more, sometimes without thinking. She did not even think of Erik's cold skin nowadays. Maybe Erik was right about telling her one can get used to anything if they really try? Maybe living with Erik won't be such a sacrifice?

They need each other.

When Erik woke up, and stood up to his feet, she was thinking about she needed to talk to him. She collected all of her strength and called out:

\- Erik are you better?

\- Yes, thank you. – He nodded, then walked to his desk.

\- Oh Erik! – She did not want him to slip into his work. They needed to talk right at that moment.

\- Yes, Christine? – He turned back. – Is something wrong?

\- We have to talk. Or to be clear, finish the talk we started earlier.

\- Yes. – He sighed. – I can't procrastinate it forever.

He walked back to the sofa and sat down next to Christine, looking at her in worry.

\- So what does Christine want to tell Erik?

\- I wonder if you love me still.

\- I do. – Erik nodded. – And always will. That is why he wanted to get your handsome sailor, so you two marry and you live happily ever after. – He admitted brokenly. – But now I am clueless about how to make Christine happy and I am sorry I wasn't feeling well enough a week ago to act.

\- Erik, don't blame yourself over what had happened between Raoul and me. It was a nasty misunderstanding, but it is over, and it seems like Raoul had made his decision. – She lowered her head. – Erik, may I ask something?

\- What Christine wishes to know?

\- If we had a fight with you and you had hurt me badly, and I left... what would you do? I mean would you try to search for me?

\- Yes, definitely. – Erik nodded passionately.

\- Would you apologize?

\- Yes. – Erik nodded even more passionately. – I'd go down on my knees and beg you to forgive Erik, kissing the hem of your dress.

\- He did not. – Christine stated simply. – Do you think it is because he doesn't love me enough? Do you think it is because he never loved me really? I mean… our love could just have been an infatuation to him, which was caused by our pleasant memories in our childhood?

\- If it was the case, why would he bother to save you from me? – Erik interrupted.

\- He thought he loved me, but since he faced some tragedies because of me, I think he changed his mind.

\- Young men tend to do so.

\- Erik, so, you said you loved me.

\- I do.

\- And you would do what makes me happy?

\- Yes.

\- I would like to stay here with you. – She said.

\- I don't think it is the best idea. – Erik shook his head.

\- Why? – She gasped. – You said you love me.

\- That is why. Exactly.

\- Explain.

\- As you love the young man, and clearly not Erik, you would only stay with me for the sake of pity. Erik doesn't want to be pitied, even loneliness is better than that. Keeping me in constant yearning for someone I could never get is the worst thing you could do to me. We shall just part and forget each other in peace.

\- Erik, it is not the case. – She said. – I love you.

\- What?

\- In the past few weeks I realized something. – She started. – If I touch you, I don't think of your face any more. I did not think it was possible, but it is. You were right. And when you went out, I was worried about you got hurt. When I was nursing you I did not wish you to die. These are signs.

\- Signs indeed. Of compassion. You are a good girl, but this isn't love yet. You bear Erik1s presence and appreciate him as a human being, not thinking him as a monster. I am thankful for your feelings, Christine. No one had ever felt so kindly about me before. But it is not love.

\- Maybe if we try it can be love as well. – She said. – I wish to try.

\- And break both of our hearts if it isn't the case? No, Christine, I have enough of heartbreaks.

\- Erik, you did not want anything more than my love. Now you can get it what is the matter?

\- I don't wish to be a replacement. – He snorted. – If not the Viscount, Erik is good enough?

\- It is not the case. – Christine lowered her head.

\- You don't know what you want. It is understandable, you are confused after these happenings. It was too much for both of us. We shall calm down and settle our feelings.

\- Erik, please. I know I love you.

\- Prove it. – Erik pointed at Christine. – Until you do it, I don't wish to go on with this conversation that goes nowhere. – He stood up again and walked to his desk and sat down to compose. He lit the gas lamp and leaned to the sheet music to finish his sonata he had been working on for weeks.

Suddenly he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Christine's well-formed small white hand was on his bony shoulder. It felt good, to be honest. He knew she wished to inform him about something, so he turned around to face the girl.

\- Christine, I'd like if you left me to my work. – He sighed.

\- I wish to prove something. – She leaned closer, and looked Erik in the eye.

\- What and how? – Erik inquired a bit of impatiently.

Without an answer, she leaned closer to Erik's face, gently touching his cold and deformed cheek, then, with a bit of hesitation she pressed her lips against Erik's malformed lips to kiss. Erik gasped loudly, and his yellow eyes got wide open. Part of him wanted to push Christine away in fright. Not because of the kiss. It felt extremely good, but he was afraid his horrid face, and kissing him will give Christine a heart attack and she will fall to the ground dead from his deadly kiss. But part of him enjoyed that kiss too much, and he was too shocked to react. His hands were shaking and he was just motionlessly allowing Christine to prove her love for him.

As the kiss ended, Erik was afraid he will lose her that instant. But she did not collapse. She did not feel ill. She did not cry. She was alive, and smiling him, yet again. Erik again felt the strange and unknown feeling to him as he did at the kiss on his forehead.

\- God… - He gasped. – Poor Christine. Poor, poor Christine yet again did kiss Erik. – He whispered in front of himself.

\- I did. And see, nothing happened. Erik, you are just a man. You are not dangerous to kiss. You think you are, for some reason, I know. But I love you and I am staying with you if you wish me to stay. Shall we try, Erik?

\- Yes. – Erik nodded. – We do.

\- Do you still want to marry me? – Christine asked.

\- Let us not talk about marriage yet. – Erik stood up and stared at Christine with a clueless expression. – At first, Erik has to find a job and search a proper home for... us. – He said. – When that happens we should be all right to get married... if you still wish to.

\- And until that we could stay together?

\- Yes. – Erik nodded. – And in this time Erik shall show you he is able to court properly.


	9. Chapter 9

Strangely, that kiss changed everything, but seemed to change nothing at first.

Yes, it sounded contradictory, but it was true. It changed Christine's entire life, as without it, she knew Erik would have already asked her to leave with peace, and keep him in her good memories if it was possible at all to ask such a thing after that awful night which still haunted their memories, but as she kissed him, Erik let her stay with him. But nothing more had changed.

Erik, contrary to what Christine thought, did not start to openly court her, not even after he promised her he would do so. It was strange and inexplicable, Erik was even more distant with her than at the beginning of their unusual relationship, when he first took her down to his underground "home", and in the following weeks. He used to take her for carriage rides at the evenings back then, when they were only silently staring at each other in awkward and uncomfortable mood, and a choking silence fell between them when Erik took her to box five to watch Faust with him as well… and… and then suddenly the abrupt movement he made towards her during the finale and the look in his eyes which gave away he nearly allowed himself to so something inappropriate before she stood up to avoid being touched by Erik… she was so worked up she could feel her heart beating in her throat, and feared the man will touch her… maybe, most likely Erik did not want to kiss her. No, not a kiss, but he surely was planning a hug, or some kind of touch, being taken away by his emotions, those being helped to get on the surface by music they were listening to. She left so abruptly she left there her fan and the rose fell from her blouse in the hurry. And Erik stayed there, frozen in place for a time, standing…

And now, nothing of that sort had happened, even though now he would have been allowed to touch her, or it would be much appreciated for him to take her out on walks or carriage rides, or to watch an opera…

But no. Erik passed her every time with his hands nervously hid behind his back, as if he was afraid he would accidentally touched her and she would catch leprosy from him, or she would get repulsed. Why was he retrogressing into that state, when she made it clear for him she wasn't repulsed by his face any more? What was wrong with Erik?

She guessed they would just need some time to forget and move on about the past, maybe Erik was ashamed of how he acted towards her earlier…? She needed time, herself as well.

She imagined learning to love Erik and spending time with him would be much easier. Looking back, those weeks they spent together in the past seemed way less awkward than they most likely used to be. And now, having no one by her side who loved her clearly, and to love, she was depressed deep down in her heart. Raoul… oh Raoul, why did you have to say those hurtful sentences? Why didn't you apologize, and why did we not travel to the North, to go on with life, to forget the Opera House and get married as we were planning…? Not even Erik found him. Did he go back to the Navy? He was planning to, before the terrible events happened, and only stayed because of her. How to reach him when she did not even know his address? And even if she did, what was the use? Raoul made up his mind. He left. He travelled without talking to her for at least one last time, and it means he did not want to. He exactly knew where she was. She told him she was going to see Erik. He did not care to appear in the House by the Lake to talk to her or take her away from there. He ended the relationship and broke his promise.

And Erik… if only he would at least give her some signs of love, or affection, or at least kindness. He was so distant and strict as a cliff and so very polite as a footman. He was wearing his mask, and never looked at her if it wasn't necessary. He bowed to her in the morning and stood up every time she walked towards him while he was sitting in his chair, and nervously inquired what could he do to be at her service. They never ate at the same time at the same place. She received a well-cooked meal from Erik, and after he placed down the plate in front of her, he left the dining room and did not appear until she was finished with eating. She did not know when he ate if he did at all. They were living together like flat mates, and Erik hardly ever spoke. He did not sing or play music any more either. Everything was missing from their relationship they used to have before: Erik's angelic voice, music, and occupation of their minds. Maybe silence and idleness were the worst of the situation.

The lack of any emotional and physical support, the feeling she suddenly found herself all alone again despite her forming positive emotions towards this strange figure of the night, and her confused and betrayed heart made her cry alone in the Louis- Philippe room every night until she finally wept herself to sleep. She was lonely and felt unloved, and not even music could ease her pain, as there were none played or sang. The house was far too silent.

They weren't happy. She knew this situation wasn't good for Erik either as he was aware of her crying, many soft remarks of his indicated he knew about it. Though he never actively tried to comfort her. He never appeared in the Louis-Philippe room. He never touched her, only told her some soft sentences the next morning about "he knew it will be like this" and he "was sorry to make her cry again".

Three weeks.

Nearly four of them, in the end, had passed until the event which finally changed this unbearable state.

After lunch, Christine was sitting in the dining room, staring at her plate with the barely touched food on it. She had no appetite. She was too sad to eat, and did not even care about eating. It had no use. No one seemed to love her, why to keep eating and pretending she had a life?

\- Finish. - Erik's voice startled her from her musings, both about Raoul and Erik, yet again.

\- I am not hungry, Erik, I have finished. - She replied in a bad mood.

\- I did not mean lunch. - Erik pointed out darkly. - Finish lying to yourself.

Silence.

\- And to me. - Erik added.

\- I am not the one lying here. - Christine snorted angrily. - But you.

\- Me? - Erik gasped, then pointed at her accusingly. - Me? Is it me crying over my lost lover every night? Is it me staying with a man against my will out of the simple reason of pitying him:?

\- Again this nonsense. - Christine sighed.

\- Nonsense? And what makes it nonsense? Does Erik tell lies? Are you not crying for hours when you are alone in the Louis-Philippe room?

\- I am. - She admitted.

\- I know. - He snapped. - Erik is not deaf. He has ears.

\- I am not crying over what you think I am.

\- But yes you are. - He hissed. - I know because you are whispering "oh Raoul, oh sweet Raoul" over and over again.

\- Are you listening? - Christine jumped up from her seat. - You promised you won't again!

\- And you, my Christine, promised to be honest with Erik. It seems like none of us keep our promises. You are right! Promises are for fools, are they not?

\- If only you gave me a reason to love you! If only you were trying to approach me…! - She burst out suddenly, sobbing.

\- No. - He replied coldly. - Erik is not courting.

\- You said you will. - She was gasping from tears. - You said… you said…

\- Yes I did, after thinking you were honest with that kiss.

\- I was….

\- I don't believe you. - He stated coldly, without any noticeable emotions. - Christine. - His voice was slightly kinder, but still very sad. - I understand you mean well. I am thankful for you trying. But you are grieving. One does not court a grieving woman. It would be too mean of a move even from me. And you don't love Erik.

Erik turned away and picked up the plate from the table to occupy himself and to free himself from the awkward situation they suddenly got into.

\- At least you could play some music again, or I could have music lessons again. - She sighed. - Did you not know music helps with grief?

\- Christine, you seem to consider Erik as a music box, to cheer you up in your sadness. Erik is not a music box without emotions, so you just wound him up and use his talent to ease your pain without giving something in return.

\- I am willing to give something in return, but you won't take it from me.

\- I would if it was honest, from your heart. You only love me with your mind right now, if you like me at all.

\- Erik…

\- Please, Christine… leave the house. I am tired of this conversation, and seeing you constantly being unhappy because of me. I told you it wasn't going to work out. Please go away and never return.

\- I can't leave you. - She stated.

\- Why? - He groaned bitterly. - Is it so good to torture me with your tears?

\- I am afraid…

\- I am not going to end my life, Christine. I promised you. Your conscience shall be clear - you saved my life and tried to love me. It is more than anyone had ever tried for me, Christine. And for that, Erik promises you again he will stay alive and wait until his time comes and he can finally rest in peace.

He took a few steps towards the kitchen door with the plate in his hands, to get rid of the leftover meal, and to flee out of the room when Christine desperately sighed

\- How could I make you believe me?

\- I believe you are trying your best to convince yourself you love Erik. - He replied dryly. - But it is not true. I know it. You know it.

\- Don't tell me what I feel! - She spat out in frustration. - I am the one who knows what I feel, not you!

\- No, it is not even you who knows what you feel. - He sighed. - Admit it finally.

\- What has gotten into you? - She crossed the room with her arms thrown open from her endless frustration and displeasure. She walked in circles around Erik, who tried not to catch her glimpse. - You weren't doing anything else before than working your way into my very soul to make me love you, forcing out my emotions, blackmailing me you were going to kill my lover if I refuse to marry you. You finally act normal for a time, defeat your selfishness and self-pity for a few weeks, and now that I would start to love you for yourself, you close all communication and act ice-cold towards me. Why? Why did you have to play with my emotions if you don't want to accept them now?

Erik was silent. He left the room without any more explanation or comments over Christine's sudden confession. He occupied himself by washing the few plates he had in pile for the day, hoping Christine will understand the comedy had to be ended finally, and will leave back to Mama Valerius by the time he finishes with them.

Arriving back to the dining room he could not find Christine any more, so he guessed it was as he imagined, and he brokenly sat down at the piano, with a desperate sob bursting out of his chest. He was crying freely, now with no one to hear him. Now he was able to cry and give out his anger and sadness as he could. It was a long- lasting crying session, making him finally unable to breathe properly with his mask on - it covered his nose holes and lips as well, and his tears made the fabric stick to his face. Somewhat comfortably, he allowed his emotions run freely, and he grieved his love in peace. It was painful, but better for everyone. He will get through it, as he got through all of the tragedies in his life. He will stay alive as he promised. He did not feel like playing the piano though, unlike his earlier self. He laboriously stood up from the piano bench and staggered to his room. He threw his mask down on his desk and collapsed down to the chair, only then he noticed a letter on his desk. He picked it up, not being sure he wanted to read it, but at least he could see her handwriting once more. The letter said:

 _ _Dear Erik,__

 _ _I realize both of us need some time alone to think. I understand now what you feel and admit you are right in a way - truly my heart is slightly confused. I am sure it isn't easy for you either, so it is a truly wiser move if I go back to Mama Valerius for a time. I would like you to know though, that I did never mean to harm you, or hurt your feelings. I am sure I feel something else for you than I did before. Your face and mysteriously frightening skills and past used to frighten and bother me, but right now I am starting to feel I am drawn towards your person in a strange and inexplicable manner. Nowadays I sometimes forget for a few seconds how your face looks, and that you are able to murder anyone.__

 _ _Please forgive me for talking about Raoul in my sadness. You have to understand he was a childhood sweetheart for me and it isn't easy to acknowledge his betrayal. This is the only reason I am crying for him.__

 _ _With that, I explained my feelings for you, and I do hope we don't have to part forever. You are a remarkable person, and I am thankful for the strange series of events leading me to meet you in the end.__

 _ _Hoping to see you again once, I remain your friend and bond with you in glorious music,__

 _ _Christine Daaé__

Erik was sure the girl meant every word, but he did not wish to bother with the issue any more that day- his head was pounding and he felt extremely tired, both physically and emotionally. In a bad mood he got rid of his frock coat and climbed into his coffin to sleep, if he can.

Christine Daaé wasn't happy at Mama Valerius. She had written her deepest feelings for Erik before leaving the House by the Lake, and though she knew Erik would not react right away, it was now his turn to make a move, but he did not. For two weeks she was staying at Mama, and they were talking - not about the men in Christine's life, as she did not want to mention either Erik or Raoul to her, not wanting to make her too much excited, and causing her to get a heart attack.

No, they were only talking and at least Christine was able to hear the voice of a human being she loved and who loved her back.

Raoul did not send her a message, not even through Mama Valerius. He did not come here to say good bye to at least the old lady who loved him as her own young son, and he did not care about her any more, not even as little as sending her a message. Well, then she does not care about him either. She spent an amount of time of her two weeks to collect all of the letters they have ever written to each other and a picture she owned of Raoul. He was wearing his uniform, and smiled hopefully to the camera. It was taken during the time of their "engagement game" at the Opera. It was hard to believe it was just a few months back. Looking at her from the photo, Raoul seemed to be so distant, as if she hadn't met him in ages. Can someone fall out of love just because two wrongly worded sentences? But anyway, it wasn't her breaking the engagement - it was him.

She wished to get rid of the memories she owned about de Chagny, but she could not bear herself to tear the photo or the letters. In the end all she had done to them was to put them in a simple, non decorated paper box and drop them at the lowest corner of the backside of her wardrobe, under and behind her set of shoes. With that, her anger and bitterness eased, but did not entirely go away, just as she expected. It was easier day by day, though.

Only one thing bothered her: she missed Erik. Yes, she had to admit she missed him. She was eagerly waiting for him to send a life sign, with a hopeful excitement, just like when a child is waiting for her gift to arrive, which Auntie sent out via mail. But at the end of each and every day, she was sadder and sadder the man did not even send a letter. She understood he needed time as well, but at least he could have sent a few lines… did he not want to talk to her ever again?

She felt sorry she did not have any belongings from Erik she could keep with herself, just like the ones she owned of Raoul she just tried to hide forever. Erik only lived in her memories, in her head, so that no one would ever believe she met him. His voice rang in her ears and she would have the urge to walk back to the House by the Lake and hug him. That thought did not make her shiver, the only thing she felt for a few seconds about that mental image, was confusion, but it vanished as well, and only the urge itself stayed. Hugging Erik wasn't unpleasant in her mind any more.

But she did not move from the side of her bed. She did not know if Erik would want to see her ever again at all, and the fact he did not send a reply to her most heartfelt confession during these two weeks indicated the man was feeling better without her.

Suddenly she heard three knocks on the front door.

Curiously she walked outside to answer it, knowing Mama was too weak to go outside. She did not know who it might be - they did not receive too much visitors. Opening the door, she gasped loudly and with a huge smile, did the most appropriate move one could imagine from a young girl of the society's standards - she jumped into the man's neck and hugged him tight without a single word of greeting.

The masked man froze in place from the shock Christine's most heartfelt greeting caused in him, and he instantly forgot everything he wanted to say in a most official manner possible. This honest act of love and happiness surprised him and moved his heart to the point he was unable to keep up his usual cold and polite acting and with trembling hands he hugged the girl to himself, and started crying.

\- Erik… I…

\- Say nothing. - He hushed her, but she did not recognize his angelic voice at that second. Erik sounded much weaker and unsure, his voice did not thunder with the operatic training. - I believe you.


End file.
